A/N: Hi, there! Betcha thought I forgot all about this story, huh? Well, it took a while - more than a while, really - but I finally finished another chapter! Hopefully this means the ol' muse is up and running again. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Terminator Salvation doesn't belong to me in any way, shape, or form.

de·ny [di nī]

(past de·nied, past participle de·nied, present participle de·ny·ing, 3rd person present singular de·nies)

v

1. say something is not true: to declare that something is not true or not the case

2. refuse: to refuse something to somebody

3. refuse to acknowledge: to refuse to acknowledge somebody

4. not allow yourself: to refuse to gratify your needs or desires

New Resistance Base, Blair's & Marcus's quarters, 1 week later...

When Blair was deemed fit enough to move out of the infirmary, Marcus shocked them both by offering to let her move into his quarters. There was plenty of space. He was living in a smallish chamber off one of the main passages that led to the motor pool. Marcus discovered it more or less by accident one day and immediately staked a claim, attracted to its relative isolation. Blair didn't hesitate to take him up on his offer. A second cot was dragged into the chamber along with all her possessions. Once everything was settled in, the place was surprisingly cozy.

Blair grew more adept at getting around with the help of the crutch. That and her increasing stamina allowed her a measure of independence, which in turn bolstered her morale. Marcus saw more and more of the old Blair in her, and less of the broken woman he'd carried off the battlefield all those weeks ago.

There were still some rough times. In the beginning, Blair's fellow pilots paid regular visits to her at the infirmary, but it was uncomfortable for everyone. Blair's condition was a painful reminder of what could happen to any one of them, and telling her about their latest flights only served to rub in the fact that she would no longer be having such adventures. Problem was, they really didn't have anything else to talk about. The silences grew longer and more stifling. Pretty soon the fliers' visits became shorter and less frequent, until they finally stopped coming altogether. It saddened Blair to lose touch with her friends, but in time she figured it was for the best. They didn't need her showing them the worst case scenario for a wounded pilot, and she didn't need them reminding her of what she'd lost. Her wounds did that enough.

"Let's take a look," Kate murmured. She had come by to finally check the progress of Blair's damaged eye. Blair sat on the edge of her cot, trying not to fidget. Marcus stood close by with his back against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. At Kate's behest, he'd turned down the lanterns scattered throughout the room. They didn't want to overwhelm the eye with too much light after spending so much time covered.

Kate gently removed the patch from Blair's right eye. "Okay, put your hand over your other eye."

Blair did so.

"Now, slowly open your right eye."

This was it, the moment when they would know for sure whether Blair was completely blind on that side. Blair swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. At first the eye didn't want to open. The lids were stuck together. But finally, the upper lid peeled back.

Marcus was surprised to see her eye was the same shade of brown it always was. For some reason, he expected it to be paler, like it was filmed over with cataracts. But there was hardly any visible sign of the trauma it sustained. Just a few healing nicks in the surrounding skin and along her cheek where she'd been peppered by shrapnel. He watched as her eye blinked rapidly and started to water - because of the light, he wondered, or just the cool air?

"Can you see anything?" Kate asked in a low voice.

Blair was silent for a long time, then her chin started to tremble. "I...I can see. It's all different colored blobs," she sniffled, "But I can see."

Marcus felt his shoulders slump in relief. He knew how much the thought of blindness preyed on Blair's thoughts. Even a little vision was better than nothing, if only for her peace of mind.

Kate smiled. "That's good. There might even be some improvement over time. But we don't want to rush it. Keep the eye covered in regular light for now. Remove it for a few hours here in your quarters and gradually increase the light to give your vision time to adapt."

"Okay." Blair lowered her left hand and turned to gaze at Marcus with both eyes uncovered. Her smile was dazzling in the dimly lit room. Marcus returned it with equal relief.

New Resistance Base, infirmary, 2 weeks later...

The power saw whined as the blade cut through the plaster encasing Blair's leg. It made Marcus nervous as hell. He kept imagining the saw cutting too deep and blood erupting through the gash in the cast. But that didn't happen. Kate wielded the dangerous tool with cool competence and minutes later the cast was neatly split open.

Blair's eyes widened as she got her first glimpse of her newly healed leg. "Oh my god..."

The leg's muscles had withered during the weeks of inactivity. Blair stared at the thin appendage in horrified dismay.

Kate hurried to reassure her, "It's perfectly normal, Blair. You just need a few weeks of physiotherapy to build up the muscles and it'll be good as new."

"Great," the former pilot muttered. Therapy for the eye, therapy for the hand, and now her leg. It felt as if she spent half her life doing physio. She was beginning to wonder if she'd ever regain even a semblance of the able-bodied-ness she once took for granted.

Kate reached over and squeezed her arm in sympathy. "I know it's frustrating."

Blair bit back an acerbic response. What the hell do you know? You still have all your working parts. Instead, she forced herself to mumble thanks and stood up to leave, her left hand automatically reaching for her crutch.

Marcus sensed her black mood on the slow walk home. He would have taken her free hand, but he knew she'd only tense up even more. She tried to hide it, but her right hand with its missing fingers disturbed her. It was the most blatant and lasting reminder of what she went through, and what it cost her.

Blair finally grated out, "I hate this."

"I know." What else could he say, really?

"I wish..." she sighed, "I wish I didn't feel so frail."

"You're not frail," he told her, "You're getting stronger."

"Yeah," she answered dully. And the way she held her head he could tell she was studiously not looking at her right hand. She never looked at it, if she could help it. Somehow, seeing this now decided Marcus and he reached over to grip her mangled hand in his. As expected, she tensed at the contact, but the tension faded after a while. Her remaining fingers even tightened around his a little.

When they reached their chamber Blair said she was tired and went to lie down on her cot. Marcus watched her doze while he pretended to work on a radio somebody salvaged during a scouting expedition. He hated seeing Blair depressed, but he knew her mood would soon improve once she experienced the progress she made with her leg. He had no doubts that her recovery would continue at its encouraging pace. She was already doing so much better.

Marcus didn't let it show, but even though he was glad to see Blair getting better, part of him also dreaded the day she fully healed and didn't need him anymore. Helping her through this ordeal had been the most fulfilling time of his life, both before and after Judgment Day. More than once Blair told him she couldn't have gotten through this without him. Marcus wasn't so sure that was true, but it felt good to hear it anyway.

But more than that, he found himself treasuring the time they spent together. More so now, since it was gradually becoming less frequent. Blair had already convinced him to start working a few hours a day at the motor pool, telling him she was able enough to get around on her own for a while. It wasn't a rejection, he knew that, but it still felt that way sometimes. Marcus wished he had the guts to ask her where this "thing" between them was going. Where could it go, really? What the hell did he have to offer her anyway? He wasn't human. Most of him wasn't even flesh and blood. He couldn't even get a hard-on, for Christ's sake! What could she possibly get out of a freak like him? All he had was his love for her.

Marcus tensed. The admission, voiced only in his thoughts, brought with it a jolt of something akin to panic. It couldn't be that! He'd never been capable of loving anyone outside of family when he was human. Why the hell did he have to start now when he was a machine? Oh shit, he just admitted it again! Once was a slip-up, but twice in as many seconds? It had to be true. He barely managed to suppress a groan of despair. He couldn't let Blair know, not even an inkling. It would only encourage her hopeless infatuation. He had to try and distance himself from her. It was the only way he could think of sparing her any future heartache.

Marcus's tortured thoughts were interrupted when his enhanced ears picked up the sounds of footsteps approaching. He put down the partially dismantled radio and went to the entryway, pushing the privacy curtain aside as he stepped through. Barnes paused only for a second at the cyborg's unexpected appearance, then closed the remaining distance between them. "Wright," he said curtly.

"Barnes," he responded in the same tone, "Why the visit?"

Connor's second-in-command kept his expression totally neutral. "There's a salvage op headin' out tomorrow. Members of the team wanted to know if you'd go with them."

Marcus frowned, confused. "They asked that? Why?"

"Dangerous area they're headin' into. Recon spotted HKs and ground troops doing regular searches."

"Then why go out there in the first place?"

"There's a vet clinic. The machines don't guard those like they do regular hospitals. Some of the animal meds can be used on humans, if there's nothin' else. Plus we could use some stuff for the dogs."

Marcus nodded in understanding. The dogs kept by the Resistance were invaluable as guards, and it was also recently discovered that they detected and reacted violently towards any T-800s trying to infiltrate the base (for some strange reason, though, they seemed indifferent to Marcus, despite all his metal parts).

"So, what?" he asked, "They figure having me along 'll give 'em an edge?"

For the first time in the conversation, Barnes's cool facade eased enough to reveal a smirk. "Well, you did fight off a whole platoon of Terminators to rescue Blair."

"Christ, is that what people are saying?" Marcus scoffed.

Barnes shrugged. "Exaggeration aside, there ain't that many humans who could've done what you did alone."

"Sure. A housebroken cyborg's a wonderful pet to have," Marcus didn't try to hide the bitterness in his tone.

"I don't give a shit what you are," Barnes snapped, "long as you get our people back safe. You in or not?"

Marcus pursed his lips and turned his head to glance back through the gap in the privacy curtain. He saw Blair curled up in her cot like before, only her eyes were open. She met his gaze and moved her head in the slightest nod. Marcus turned back to Barnes. "Fine, I'm in."

Barnes told him where and when to meet the rest of the team, then marched off without so much as a nod in farewell.

"Nice to see you two getting along," Blair remarked as he reentered the room.

Marcus snorted, "Sure, like two peas in a damn pod."

"Least he's not firing rockets at you anymore."

"Or trussing me up and shooting me with hollow-points." Marcus sat down on the edge of his bed - whose reinforced frame still creaked under his weight - and slowly rubbed both hands down his suddenly tired-looking face. "Think this is a good idea?"

Blair turned over to face him. "I do."

"Could just be an excuse to get rid of me, y'know. Team comes back, says I had an accident or died a heroic death-"

"I don't believe that," Blair retorted calmly, "Since I talked you into working more hours at the motor pool again I've been getting around on my own, hearing things. Things people say about you."

"Uh huh," Marcus said dully.

"Wanna know what they're saying?"

"Nope." He stretched out on his cot, hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. "Right now I just wanna get some shuteye before the big day."

Blair knew it was mere avoidance on his part, but she let it go for now. "Sweet dreams, Marcus."

She reached out to switch off the lantern sitting on the footlocker situated at the head of her cot. In the darkened room, Marcus's quiet voice replied, "You too."